


waking up beside you i'm a loaded gun

by danverrs



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-03 21:36:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6627418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danverrs/pseuds/danverrs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When he sees Enjolras standing awkwardly in the middle of the room without a <em>goddamn</em> shirt, he feels two things: first, <em>what the fuck</em> and then, <em>it must be a cosmic joke</em>."</p>
<p>Or, Grantaire can sleep through a party, but wakes up when someone enters the bedroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	waking up beside you i'm a loaded gun

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote for the "bed sharing" on my trope bingo card.  
> Title from [No Control by One Direction](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pW7W8hbdhX8) because I'm a big joke.  
> Un-beta'd. All mistakes are mine.

Here’s the thing about Courfeyrac’s parties: even when he lived at an apartment and thus he couldn’t do something big, they _always_ have been something else.

 

And now that he and his parents moved into a proper house — a _huge_ house for the matter —, Grantaire should’ve known better when his friend cheerfully told him about the party at his new place.

 

Grantaire looks around. There’s no sign of his friend. It’s not really a surprise: there’s a lot of people moving and laughing and grinding. Some of them he recognizes from school, but most of them he’s never seen in his entire life and Grantaire is almost sure neither have Courfeyrac. Probably they’re friends of Bahorel’s girlfriend, Amelia, who goes to another school.

 

He moves toward the people, elbowing some of them. He searches for the kitchen. Grantaire _needs_ to drink something, he’s mouth feels dry from seeing Enjolras minutes ago. He was arguing with Combeferre and he looked so _hot_ and damn. He tried to drink a beer or something alcoholic because he just couldn’t deal, but every time he did, Eponine scowled at him. She’ll be driving him home, so unless Grantaire wants to walk 12 blocks — which he _doesn’t_ —, he’ll have to cut the alcohol out. It’s not something bad at all, and water will have to do the trick.

 

After pushing some other people, he finally finds himself in the kitchen. It’s quieter and Grantaire is grateful. For some reason, he doesn’t feel like partying at all. And the couple making out against the freezer doesn’t exactly make him feel better.

 

He grabs a — hopefully — clean glass. He fills it with the water from the sink. Eponine chooses this moment to walk in, probably wanting to check him.

 

She’s no longer wearing the red lipstick and her hair is a mess. She swallows her vodka down and _really_ , unfair.

 

“When are we going home?” asks Grantaire lamely. He knows they’re not going, not tonight.

 

“We’re not.” Eponine says calmly, exactly what Grantaire thought. “We’ll be stayin’ over tonight. A lot of people will, actually. Well, maybe not a lot, but.”

 

“But.” Repeats Grantaire.

 

Eponine pats his cheek. “I’m drunk. You know there’s no way I’ll be driving. Just roll with it.”  


She blows him a kiss and walks out. That little shit.

 

-

 

He decides to have some fun, even if it includes not drinking, even if he still doesn’t feeling like it at all. He talks to Bossuet and Joly and Bahorel. He dances and kisses some random girl and wow, he does not think about Enjolras at all.

 

When it’s past one and the party still loud, he decides to go to sleep. This way maybe he won’t have to share his bed, if what Eponine said about people sleeping here is real; which probably is, because Courf sometimes doesn’t have the heart to say no.

 

Grantaire finds an empty bedroom — the house really is big as fuck — and just crawls into bed. The noises aren’t that loud up there, so he easily falls asleep.

 

-

 

He wakes up with the door opening with a soft click. It almost feels like a joke. He manages do sleep through a _fucking_ party, but god forbidden him if someone just _enters_ the bedroom and…

 

Wait.

 

_Someone entered the bedroom_.

 

Grantaire snaps his eyes open, and even if there’s no light, it still hurts a little. He’s very still and he can hear a soft but steady breathing. Then, there’s something falling to the ground.

 

“What the fuck.” Grantaire whispers, groggily.

 

He wasn’t that quietly probably, because the person — who must have not noticed Grantaire — lets a yelp and the next thing he knows, there’s light.

 

Grantaire groans loudly. And closes his eyes again, not bothering to see who the fuck is the evil soul who just turned the light on.

 

“Dude, what the hell.” He says.

 

“Grantaire? Why are you here?”

 

He snaps his eyes open. He _knows_ that voice.

 

When he sees Enjolras standing awkwardly in the middle of the room without a _goddamn_ shirt, he feels two things: first, _what the fuck_ and then, _it must be a cosmic joke_.

 

Grantaire has trouble looking away. Enjolras’ skin is pale and he’s skinny and _no_.

 

Grantaire sinks his head into the pillow.

 

“Whatever is happening, no.” He muffles.

 

Grantaire just _feels_ Enjolras’ glare.

 

“I need to sleep.” He says.

 

“Well, me too, but here I am.” And Grantaire is so proud because he managed to say something coherent and his voice didn’t shake even if all he can think is _holy shit_.

 

“I didn’t know you were here, okay,” Enjolras says defensive. “Besides, all the other guest rooms are occupied so if you want to sleep with three people or on the floor, be my guest.”

 

Grantaire, Bossuet, Muschietta and Joly already slept in the same bed, but not the point.

 

“ _Fine_ ,” Grantaire says and shifts, making more room for Enjolras. He could freak out about this whole thing in the morning.

 

He thought that maybe Enjolras would at least put his shirt back on, but that doesn’t happen. Without saying a word, the blond boy turns off the light and crawls into his side.

 

The thing is, the bed is small. Grantaire’s back is pressed against the wall and Enjolras, the fucker, lies with his back ghosting over Grantaire’s chest. He’s sure as hell they’ll end spooning while sleeping and someone, probably Eponine or Courfeyrac, because it’s already established  karma has a thing for Grantaire, will find them in the morning and just like that they’ll have blackmail for months.

 

Grantaire shifts a little, trying to make himself more comfortable. Enjolras holds his breath. Grantaire doesn’t know why the boy’s so nervous, because after all, Enjolras is not the one laying next to his crush who happens to have something against sleeping with a shirt on.

 

“Relax,” Grantaire mutters, his breath close to Enjolras’ bare shoulder. The boy shivers, but he inhales slowly.  

 

And just because he can, Grantaire sniffs dramatically and adds “Also, when’s the last time you washed your hair? Because damn.”

 

“ _For_ _fuck’s sake_.”

 

Enjolras kicks him. Enjolras also tangles their feet, pressing his cold foot into Grantaire’s. He laughs and it’s totally worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr](strmplot.tumblr.com/). Come say hi if you feel like it!


End file.
